Saturday, December 31, 2011

Since becoming a Scottish Laird last year I've had to brush up on my knowledge of local holiday customs. Nothing is more conspicuous or off putting than the no-nothing American in with a band of locals, keeping ancient traditions alive.

The Scottish New Year Eve celebration derives from the Viking tradition aided unwittingly by dour Methodists and the Church of Scotland. For 400 years, until the 1950's, The Church forbade Christmas celebrations in Scotland. Their belief was that Christmas was a papist feast, something Scots should have no hand in. So the Scots worked Christmas and celebrated the winter solstice at New Year's Eve parties, Hogmanies, where friends would gather and gifts would be exchanged,whisky shared, Auld Lang Syne sung at midnight along with ample kissing under the mistletoe.

After midnight "First Footing" is still practiced. The first guest for the new year should be a dark haired man bearing the symbolic gifts of salt, bread, coal and a wee dram of spirits. A blond headed man would never due. The Vikings were blond, and when they showed at your door historically it meant trouble.

My Irish male relations would prefer a lusty, blond, whisky bearing, woman be their first New Year's visitor although not a one would have a clue how to keep her entertained before mother returned home.

Whatever your practice, be safe (ish). Be a bit naughty but don't get caught. Lie if you must. I'll leave the light on for ya, see ya next year. Happy New Year.

Friday, December 30, 2011

Nothing will take place on Friday, December 30, 2011 in Samoa. Historical records will not exist. Newspaper entries will not record the comings and goings of Samoans on December 30. The Samoans have collectively decided to give the day a miss. They are going to sleep on Thursday, and waking on Saturday. If you are reading this at work, one of the few people in the office, you're probably wondering why you didn't give Friday a miss as well.

If you cannot immediately conjure a mental of image of Samoa, imagine an island nation straddling the international dateline on the wrong side of their largest trading partners, Australia and New Zealand, which limits Samoans to only 4 shopping days per week.

Someone had the bright idea of paying the International Map Line Drawers Association to move the date line a tad to the east so Samoans and their friends would all be on the same day. American Samoa took a pass. They apparently like Fridays.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

I mentioned in a comment yesterday that Boxing Day would have been my father's 88th birthday. On his last birthday he was diagnosed with the cancer that killed him 4 days later. He was a stoic SOB.

I was almost 2 when we met. Having served in the Navy during WW2 he joined the Marine reserve battalion his friends belonged to. He then talked his wife's brothers into signing up too. Using the lure of free work clothes and beer money as an inducement is how his BIL's teased his enlistment speech. They followed him wherever he wanted to go. Once the menfolk signed up, their unit was activated during summer camp and shipped out to Korea. I was born while he was away. After being wounded several times the Marines made him a Drill Instructor, his smokey bear hat my oldest memory of him.

He was a dude who never met a stranger, always drove convertibles. 6'3" skinny as a rail. Forsook a pro pitching contract to get married. He worked for one company his entire adult life. I never, ever saw him wear anything other than a suit to work, with a hat until the late 60's, and no one ever saw him in shorts.

I was hardly my father's son. We had little in common, I hated sports, he loved them, we disagreed about the major things, which it turned out he was right and I was wrong. I loved him and he loved me and that was enough for each of us. Twenty five years gone hardly a day goes by when I don't think to call him about something, then remember I can't. I miss him, and likely always will.

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

In between the childish parts of the holiday season and the more timorous adult happenings this weekend it is good to spend a moment remembering those who will only be in our hearts in the coming year.

or as Lennon/McCartney put it:

There are places I'll rememberAll my life though some have changedSome forever not for betterSome have gone and some remainAll these places had their momentsWith lovers and friends I still can recallSome are dead and some are livingIn my life I've loved them all

But of all these friends and loversThere is no one compares with youAnd these memories lose their meaningWhen I think of love as something newThough I know I'll never lose affectionFor people and things that went beforeI know I'll often stop and think about themIn my life I love you more

Though I know I'll never lose affectionFor people and things that went beforeI know I'll often stop and think about themIn my life I love you moreIn my life I love you more

Around 1990 an American seismologist Iben Browning predicted that a massive earthquake would occur in the Mississippi flood plain wreaking havoc to those, like me, living in the affected neighborhood. He even provided a date as I recall. Millions of dollars were earned by those selling home earthquake protection systems, bottled water, stored food supplies and ready fuel and cash. In many ways, prepackaged Mormon security kits. The quake hasn't yet come to pass, but friends and neighbors still have cases of oatmeal standing guard in their basements. I gave Iben a pass.

On January 1, 2000 the world as we knew it was scheduled to come to a screeching end. Utilities and banks, not having the sense that god gave sheep, were expected to let their computer systems turn over and die when the calendar rolled to 2000. The collected stupidity of the financial system would launch economic suicide on all of us. Utilities were so out of touch they would forgo the opportunity for profit, plunging us into New Year's darkness and cold, while their computerized delivery mechanisms shut down at the stroke of midnight.

Were you Y2K compatible? Certain that Mrs. T wasn't, I postponed our nupts until January 15th. She wasn't then and still isn't, and I've lived to tell the tale. All the other bad stuff never happened either.

Now I reminded of Muhammad Ali's pre-trial assertion that the Viet Cong never called him names. The Mayan's, with whom I've no truck have signed our death warrant. We've less than a year to live. How can we not take a 700 year prediction seriously? I've been lucky thus far, but the odds are not in our favor this time.

The trouble is what's the point of making a killing on this if we are all toast? It's worse than a rapture. In a rapture many (most?) don't go. At an end of the world party we check in but never leave.

So how do we prepare? I'm all for spending the year drinking wine cellars dry, blowing the kids inheritance, draining nest years Christmas fund early, racking up incredible debt, while enjoying life to the fullest all the way to the end. If we wake up to find the Mayans were wrong about the date we invade Mayanlandia. It is right and just.

Have you ever had exactly the wrong response to a present? I have. It is unfun, and I feel like a bounder.

In the world of technology there is a spectrum which runs from early adapters, those who must have tomorrow's latest gadgets yesterday, to late adapters who will accept a technology when they absolutely must and then there is everywhere in between. I'm a non adapter. My car is 35 years old. I am one of the few adults on the planet that still has a home phone, albeit without voicemail or an answering machine, I do not have a cell phone, although my wife does. She had to update her bag phone when the networks went digital, and hasn't changed phones in 10+ years. I have a laptop, but the computer at home that gets the most use runs Windows 98, and fills all our requirements. I hope it runs forever.

For Christmas I received an Ipad. Tens of children wanted one for Christmas and were disappointed they didn't receive one. I, on the other hand, received one, and am disappointed. I'm not mobile, I read books on paper, I rarely watch television on screens under 40". I prefer mechanical toys. Am I missing some compelling, life changing reason to have this thing?

Unfortunately, my usual aplomb abandoned me. Unwrapping the paper I must have looked like I opened a sack of eels. I know and appreciate how hard my bride works to find just the right present for everyone. She researches, shops, knows everything about her target, and can explain its why in great detail. This time, I was underwhelmed and showed it. Mrs T was powerfully disappointed. My reaction had let her down and I feel terrible. Disappointing my bride is not a position I enjoy.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Now, if anyone asks you what the difference is between Xmas and Chanukah, you will know what and how to answer!

1. Xmas is one day, same day every year, December 25.

Jews also love December 25th. It's another paid day off work. We go to movies and out for Chinese food and Israeli dancing. Chanukah is 8 days. It starts the evening of the 24th of Kislev, whenever that falls. No one is ever sure.

Jews never know until a non-Jewish friend asks when Chanukah starts, forcing us to consult a calendar so we don't look like idiots. We all have the same calendar, provided free with a donation from the World Jewish Congress, the kosher butcher, or the local Sinai Memorial Chapel (especially in Florida) or other Jewish funeral home.

2. Christmas is a major holiday.

Chanukah is a minor holiday with the same theme as most Jewish holidays. They tried to kill us, we survived, let's eat.

3. Christians get wonderful presents such as jewelry, perfume, stereos...

Jews get practical presents such as underwear, socks, or the collected works of the Rambam, which looks impressive on the bookshelf.

4. There is only one way to spell Christmas.

No one can decide how to spell Chanukah, Chanukkah, Chanukka, Channukah, Hanukah, Hannukah, etc, so even if you are an illiterate klutz you can't go wrong.

5. Christmas is a time of great pressure for husbands and boyfriends. Their partners expect special gifts.

Jewish men are relieved of that burden. No one expects a diamond ring on Chanukah.

6. Christmas brings enormous electric bills.

Candles are used for Chanukah. Not only are we spared enormous electric bills, but we get to feel good about not contributing to the energy crisis.

Chanukah songs are about dreidels made from clay or having a party and dancing the hora. Of course, we are secretly pleased that many of the beautiful carols were composed and written by our tribal brethren. And don't Barbara Streisand and Neil Diamond sing them beautifully?

8. A home preparing for Christmas smells wonderful from sweet smell of cookies and cakes baking.

A home preparing for Chanukah smells of oil, potatoes, and onions. Jews burn their eyes and cut their hands grating potatoes and onions for latkes on Chanukah. Another reminder of our suffering through the ages. Unless of course you are in Israel where they celebrate by eating inedible cherry donuts call sufganiot.

9. Parents deliver presents to their children during Christmas.

Jewish parents have no qualms about withholding a gift on any of the eight nights.

10. The players in the Christmas story have easy to pronounce names such as Mary and Joseph.

The players in the Chanukah story are Antiochus, Judah Maccabee, and Matta-whatever. No one can spell it or pronounce it. On the plus side, we can tell our friends anything and they believe we are wonderfully versed in our history.

11. In recent years, Christmas has become more and more commercialized.

We save money on Chanukah, less gifts to buy, less to return, less junk to deal with, easier to sleep with.

Friday, December 23, 2011

Now the Maccabees returned to Jerusalem to liberate it. They entered the Temple and cleared it of the idols placed there by the Syrian vandals. Judah and his followers built a new altar, which he dedicated on the twenty-fifth of the month of Kislev, in the year 3622.
Since the golden Menorah had been stolen by the Syrians, the Maccabees now made one of cheaper metal. When they wanted to light it, they found only a small cruse of pure olive oil bearing the seal of the High Priest Yochanan. It was sufficient to light only for one day. By a miracle of G-d, it continued to burn for eight days, till new oil was made available. That miracle proved that G-d had again taken His people under His protection. In memory of this, our sages appointed these eight days for annual thanksgiving and for lighting candles.

Festivus celebrates being alive at a time when it is hard to be alive. Since mankind crawled out of the primordial soup, at this time of year people have given thanks that great storms or wild beasts hadn't destroyed them, famine and drought hadn't killed them and insane leaders hadn't shuffled them off to war.

Families then prayed that next year's crops would grow, that wild animals wouldn't devour them, that they and their family would survive to do it all over again next year. Then they feasted, sometimes a little too heartily which led to airings of grievances, feats of strength and all the rest.

Festivus is as old as mankind, yet still as relevant as it ever was. Party on, you survived, you earned it.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Today marks the winter solstice in the northern hemisphere, summer if you are fortunate enough to be in the southern. For travelers in the north, today has the fewest hours of daylight, in the south the longest hours of sunshine.

In modern times Christians all over the world celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ on Christmas on December 25. However, it is believed that this date was chosen to offset older Roman pagan celebrations of Saturnalia and Natalis Invicti. Some believe that celebrating the birth of the “true light of the world” was set in synchronization with the December solstice because from that point onwards, the days began to have more daylight in the northern hemisphere.

Christmas is also referred to as Yule, which derives from the Norse word jól, referring to the pre-Christian winter solstice festival. Yule is the time when ancient believers celebrated the rebirth of the Sun God and with it days with more light. This took place annually around the time of the December solstice and lasted for 12 days. Fires were lit to symbolize the heat, light and life-giving properties of the returning sun. A Yule or Juul log was brought in and burned on the hearth in honor of the Scandinavian god Thor.

In England, Germany, France and other European countries, the Yule log was burned until nothing but ash remained. The ashes were then collected and either strewn on the fields as fertilizer every night until Twelfth Night or kept as a charm and or used in making medicine. French peasants believed that if the ashes were kept under the bed, they would protect the house against thunder and lightning. The present-day custom of lighting a Yule log at Christmas is believed to have originated in the ancient bonfires associated with the feast of Juul.

Rudyard Kipling and his fellow warmongers worked overtime at the beginning of World War I trying to convince the British people that due to the superiority of the Royal Navy the war in Europe would be over by Christmas 1914. They were horrifically wrong. By the time trench warfare began late in 1914 it was clear the war would extend beyond Christmas.

Christmas is always hard on soldiers. To those entrenched in Flanders, London was a mere 60 miles away, the German border not much further. Governments on both sides had prepared small holiday gift-boxes for the troops, with snacks, sweets and tobacco. Queen Victoria had set the precedent in 1899, ordering small tin boxes of chocolates shipped to soldiers in distant South Africa for a Boer War Christmas. German troops in Flanders, accessible from home by land, received, along with their wooden gift boxes, tabletop-size Christmas trees with candles conveniently clamped to the branches.

On Christmas Eve 1914 the Germans placed their trees atop trench parapets and lit the candles. Then they began singing carols, and though their language was unfamiliar to the British Tommies, the tunes were not. After a few trees were shot at, the British became more curious than belligerent, and crawled forward to watch and to listen, and soon they too began to sing. By Christmas morning, no man’s land between the trenches was filled with fraternising soldiers, sharing rations, trading gifts, singing, and – more solemnly – burying the dead between the lines. Fraternizing with the enemy is criminal offense in wartime, and when word of the Christmas Truce reached headquarters local commanders were severely punished. War began the next morning.

Several mostly unsuccessful attempts were made in 1915 to continue a Christmas truce tradition, to little avail. No war since has had a successful Christmas truce.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Since #1 son's work schedule doesn't allow him much time off for Christmas this year, Mrs. T and I hit the road Saturday meeting up with Liz and her family in Kansas City, breaking bread and exchanging Christmas prizes.

Not being as familiar with KC as I once was, I asked several locals for recommendations of good places, near the interstate for us to meet. When the number 1 recommendation from several folks was the same (Oklahoma Joe's), I took that as a good sign, and planned accordingly.

Mid afternoon when we arrived, the line of customers wrapped around the building. Thankfully it was unseasonably warm since many patrons, unable to find seats inside tailgated in the parking lot. We went elsewhere, had a feast that couldn't be beat and hightailed it home.

Can your dogs tell time? Two of ours can. Charlie sleeps in our bed. At nine AM and not a minute sooner, she's awake, licking my face and ready for me to begin my day. Whatever mood I go to bed in, I begin my day laughing.

Pooh knows her bed time. Each night around 1, regardless of what else is going on, she heads to bed. She's also the first one awake but is quiet until Charlie's up.

My daughter sent the photo above. Every weekday evening, 10 minutes before her husband is expected home from work, her 2 guys move to their spot at the top of the landing and wait for dad. It's uncanny. Dad was late the day the photo was taken and the guys were becoming restless.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Amongst the best holiday traditions are the endless loop of treasured television movie classics, White Christmas, The Bishop's Wife, Christmas Story. Most of us can recite the holiday programs in our sleep. My TIVO has 5 versions of A Christmas Carol, including Dr. Who's. I love them all.

To assist in the spirit of regifting, I offer this rerun from last year and last years last year. Someday, it's going to become a classic.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

There were no banner headlines in the next morning's newspapers announcing the feat, but at 3 PM GMT one hundred years ago today, Norwegian explorer Roald Amundson and 4 expedition members were the first humans to arrive at the South Pole.

The Norwegian team was competing for the honor of being first to the pole with the English explorer Robert Falcon Scott. Scott had set off for Antarctica first, while Amundson had planned to explore the North Pole. His plan, pre-Panama canal, was to sail around the Horn and up the US west coast to the Artic. Upon reaching Madeira, Amundson wired Scott that he had changed his mind and was heading to Antarctica. Scott was on a scientific expedition with a goal of reaching the pole, Amundson was going simply to be the first to reach the Pole.

Amundson did reached the pole first, Scott and his team arriving by a different route 34 days later only to find a note left for him by the Norwegian team. Amundson was troubled in later years by accusations of ungentlemanly conduct and being unsporting in his arrival without giving prior notice of his intention, the hurt was more painful because he and his team survived while Scott and his party perished on their return from the pole. Roald died in the Arctic in 1928.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Early Thanksgiving week I met with our craftsman Chuck to discuss what I had in mind for shelving. Afterward I sent this drawing.

The shelves on the ends of the photo above were meant to be one foot deep and two foot long. They arrived 1x1. I'm having so much fun teasing Chuck about his broken tape measure that I didn't even notice the hurt when I reordered a 1x2 section.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

My plate is already plenty full. If I wanted I could spend all day, every day, preparing for the holidays, but I'm too easily distracted and won't leave well enough alone.

I prefer my world, especially my playroom orderly, albeit scruffy. So long as I know where my toys are, I'm a happy boy. Everything in it is neat, tidy, in very good order, meets all my needs, and is comfortable. Something isn't right though. I don't care for the color.

Since converting this rarely used guest bedroom to my personal toy store, I've tried all kinds of tricks to liven it up. I've tried cork, I've tried a single bold colored accent wall (with and without cork), Although I learned the hard way about writing on walls, I even tried greenboard paint. I was uncertain what to do.

Then Little Augury came to my rescue. In a post long ago she wrote "Why not make a small room mysterious by wrapping it in a dark color.."

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Do you buy yourself presents? When circumstances permit, I do. Last Christmas I ordered a pair of slippers from Broadland Slippers.

They were so comfy, I asked them to make something special for my birthday. Sean and Mike mentioned that they had a piece of tartan available. I agreed before they they could change their minds.

While memorizing every photograph in Fiona Dreesmann's The Gentleman's Slipper I had the itch to add to my collection. I had something off the shelf in mind but nothing I felt strongly about. The boy's recommended this tartan with navy lining instead.

Friday, December 9, 2011

Ladies, let us dumb boys in on a girl secret please. The audience here is approx 50/50 boys to girls. The scruffier half will spend many of their waking hours comparing notes with their scruffy companions. Save us and the sisterhood some grief, save us from ourselves.

It's holiday shopping season and I see clueless guys roaming the malls in search of what is hoped will be the perfect gift for the woman in their life. Leather goods are heavily advertised, perhaps a purse would be just the ticket.

Pretending the season's "it bag" is unavailable, should men just keep on walking (my vote) and avoid this minefield altogether, or is this an opportunity to pay attention, observe and learn more about the women in their life?

For instance, does a woman ever change the style of her go to, everyday bag? Could/should she be persuaded to update her choice? Color choice depends upon.....

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Regular readers will recall that I'm rarely allowed unescorted in grocery stores. My bride and I usually disagree on what is a grocery essential, she taking the blinkered view. If I promise not to rush I'm allowed to accompany her because I remember where we're parked. In cold weather this is key.

Last night I discover canned scones. Canned scones may be as old as the hills but are new to me. No one makes better scones than you and your mother so I wonder that someone would bother. Are they any good?

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Today we honor the 91st birthday of living national treasure, cool guy, jazz pianist and composer Dave Brubeck.

Dave along with composing and playing partner Paul Desmond were founders of what became known as the "West Coast" jazz sound noted for its more relaxed tempo than pre war jazz.

There wasn't much music at home while I was growing up but on weekends if the old folks went to bed early I could often find Brubeck and Desmond playing on Playboy's Penthouse, a pre cable talk/musical variety show hosted by Hugh Hefner, set on a stage meant to mimic Hefner's Chicago apartment. Pretty salacious for the early 1960's. Youthful eyes could often glimpse a "bunny" without resorting to stealing a copy of the mag.